


Mistletoe

by swiftonthedownside



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Christmas, Good morgana, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Mistletoe, OCs - Freeform, Or Non-Evil Morgana, Yule, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:35:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swiftonthedownside/pseuds/swiftonthedownside
Summary: At Yuletide celebrations, visitors from the north bring with them a treasured tradition—and with it, a whole heap of trouble.Basically an AU where less stuff has gone wrong, Morgana isn’t evil, etc. Takes place the year Arthur was crowned Prince of Camelot.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 193





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> I know this name sux leaf me olone.
> 
> I’m late posting this because it ended up being much MUCH longer than I intended. I hope u guys still read it anyway tho. Obviously this is an AU where Morgana never went evil and I’m bad at writing fight scenes so that’s why there’s only one. I feel like everyone is a smidge out of character but it’s an AU so I’m allowed to do that!!! I’m sorry I just make the rules.
> 
> Anyway enough of me being overly defensive, hope u guys enjoy, if u do leave me a comment this is my first fic in this fandom so I would love to hear thoughts. Love y’all, blessed Yule 🌟

“Guinevere, what is that?”

Gwen startled, losing her balance and nearly toppling from the ladder she was perched on. Arthur rushed forward a few steps to steady both her and the ladder.

“Arthur!” she gasped, giving him a flustered smile. “You scared me.”

“You hear that one all the time, don’t you Arthur?” Morgana asked as she strode past them. Her hair was windswept from their ride, her cheeks flushed from the winter chill that permeated even the castle walls. She paused to give him a smirk. “From babies in the lower town?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “If babies could talk,” he grumbled as she walked off toward her chambers, laughing to herself. He turned back to Gwen, who was reaching up to finish fastening a bundle of leaves and berries to the wall above a window. “But you never answered my question.”

Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Mistletoe.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder at where the voice had come from. An old man and woman walked leisurely up the castle steps and into the warmth of the hall, arm in arm. The man’s hair was a mixed grey and auburn, cropped near his chin and shining where he stood tall in the candlelight. The woman was a bit shorter and rounder than he, with hair that was white and thick, curling like puffs of snow past her shoulders. Her blue eyes crinkled as she smiled at him.

“Mistletoe, Lady Nicks?” Arthur repeated to her. He tried to keep his tone polite, though he was already weary after spending the whole day on a ride with their guests from the kingdom far north.

She bowed her head slightly in affirmation as she and her husband approached. “Something of a tradition from home that we thought we might share with Camelot in the Yuletime.”

“The colors are lovely,” Arthur noted absently, the only thing he could think to say. Gwen picked up a basket off of the floor that was filled with little bundles of dark green leaves and bright white berries.

“We’ve been instructed to hang them all over the castle,” Gwen put in, using her best speaking-in-the-presence-of-visiting-royalty voice. “The King is just delighted about sharing our cultures with each other this way.”

“As are we,” Lord Nicks responded is his warm, rumbling voice.

“But he may want to watch where he asks them to be hung,” Lady Nicks commented with a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “Considering the real point of the tradition, that is.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

Lady Nicks cast a glance at Gwen who was flushing lightly and staring at the floor, clearly already in the know. “It is custom,” she said, leaning towards him as she lowered her voice, “to exchange a kiss with whomever you meet under the mistletoe.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raised as he took an unconscious step away from Gwen at the same moment that she did the same. “An interesting custom,” he finally said, unable to think of anything less rude to say about it.

Lady Nicks chuckled, leaning against her husband as they kept walking. “It certainly does make for an interesting holiday.”

Arthur watched them go, and then turned to Gwen, who looked like she was stifling a laugh as she gazed at him. He looked up to determine where the mistletoe was, and once he decided it was safe, he leaned towards her.

“Be careful where you hang that, would you?” he muttered to her. She couldn’t manage to contain a small, bursting laugh, though she quickly adjusted her expression afterwards.

“Of course, sire.”

“Good.” He cast one last glance at the mistletoe before turning to walk away.

~~~

“Gaius, what is _that_?”

Gaius barely glanced up at the leaves hanging from the doorpost that Arthur was staring at. “ _Viscum album_. A plant from the north and the east with slightly poisonous berries seen as a symbol of fertility.”

“I know what it is,” Arthur said, striding into the physician’s room and holding out his hand for Morgana’s sleeping draught. “What I meant is why is it there?”

“Your father has told the servants to hang every bundle that our friends from the north brought with them. I imagine they’re running out of places to put it.” He pressed the bottle into Arthur’s hand.

“I hope it doesn’t turn out to be a menace,” Arthur complained. He glanced at Gaius. “Did you know you’re supposed to kiss whoever you pass by underneath it?”

Gaius raised an eyebrow. “Well then you’d best be on your watch, my lord.”

Arthur pursed his lips, not pleased by the response. “You said the berries are poisonous? You’d best make sure everyone in the castle knows.”

“I will spread the word throughout the servants, sire.”

“Speaking of servants,” Arthur said, looking around. “Where exactly _is_ Merlin? _He_ should be the one fetching Morgana’s draught, not me.”

Gaius busied himself with cleaning up ingredients and plants off of his work table. “I’m afraid I don’t know for certain, sire, but if I see him I will send him your way.”

Arthur scoffed. “Terrible excuse for a manservant,” he grumbled as he headed towards the door. “Never know where the bastard is...”

Gaius watched him go before turning to the bookshelf behind him. “He’s gone, Merlin.”

Merlin stumbled away from the bookshelf, his skin and clothes shimmering to match the new background. “On the bright side,” he said, his voice only slightly stressed, “I think I found the counterspell.”

~~~

“ _Merlin_ , _what_ is that?”

Merlin looked down at Arthur from his position standing atop a step stool stacked on another step stool. “Haven’t you heard yet? Mistletoe from Lord and Lady Nicks.”

Arthur closed his eyes and ground his teeth, sucking in a deep breath. He counted to three. “Why the _hell_ are you hanging it in my _bedroom_?”

Merlin stared at him for a moment, arms still raised as he finished tying a knot, before he shrugged wordlessly.

Arthur turned away and walked to his desk, lacking the energy to deal with Merlin’s idiocy at the moment, and sat down with a weary sigh. He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “I cannot wait for Yule to be over,” he groaned.

“You don’t like Yule?” Merlin asked from behind him, his voice surprised, nearly scandalized.

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by crashing and thumping and “oof”ing sounds. He turned in his chair to see Merlin sprawled on his stomach on the stone floor, the two stools fallen under the mistletoe.

Arthur stared at him as he pushed himself up, brushing off his jacket. “I’m okay,” he wheezed, turning to shoot Arthur a stupid smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I don’t hate Yule,” he finally managed to get out. “I just don’t like the weeks and weeks of visiting nobility and stupid formal feasts and Morgana breathing down my neck about what gift she’s getting.”

“I like the snow,” Merlin said from his new position near the window on the other side of the room. Arthur sighed heavily.

“Ready everything for bed, will you?” he grumbled, standing up to look at the dark town out the window.

“Yes, sire.”

~~~

“And before I return, be sure to lay out my robes for the feast tonight. Do you hear me, Merlin?”

“Yes, my lord, I have noted every task you want me to accomplish today,” Merlin responded testily. “Did you want me to polish your armor before I muck out your stables, after I launder your bedding, or between sharpening the training swords and mending the shields?”

Arthur stopped in the main doorway at the front of the castle, clapping a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and giving him a falsely sweet smile. “You know, I think I’ll leave those details up to you.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes at Arthur and gave him a big sarcastic grin. “Enjoy your patrol, sire,” he ground out through his teeth. “Keep warm, would be a shame if you froze to death out there.”

“Are you joining us for our ride again today, Prince Arthur?”

Arthur looked over as Lord and Lady Nicks approached him and Merlin. Both of their eyes shone with that mischief he thought he saw yesterday.

“Not today, I’m afraid,” he answered in his most apologetic tone, secretly grateful for the patrol duty. They were nice enough, but very cryptic and seemed to be great lovers of causing minor trouble. Yesterday, he’d nearly ripped his foot off in his boot when it had somehow got tied to his stirrups. “I must run a patrol with my guard, this afternoon.”

“Well be safe, your highness,” Lord Nicks bid him with a slight not of his head.

“And don’t forget, before you go,” Lady Nicks added, a smug grin on her face. Her eyes slid up to the doorway as they passed, traveling back down to Arthur and giving him a wink.

Arthur and Merlin both craned their heads straight up. There, right above the two of them, hung a bundle of mistletoe.

Arthur laughed, not wanting to admit that it sounded awkward. “Yeah right,” he chuckled.

“Wha?” Merlin looked at him, then blinked. “Oh, yes, very funny, that.” He nodded, though he wasn’t laughing.

“Like I’d kiss _you_ , Merlin,” Arthur scoffed. Merlin nodded sagely.

“Of course, I see the joke, sire.”

Arthur was put off by his tone. He didn’t seem to find it amusing, and he also wasn’t upset. It was like he was devoid of opinion on the matter. He turned to head down to the steps to his waiting horse and guard.

“Oh yes,” he said, turning to face Merlin one last time. “Don’t forget to sweep out my hearth, too.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, _sire_.”

Arthur smirked at the return of Merlin’s sass, and continued on to his horse. As he mussed with the saddlebags for a moment, he noticed Lady Nicks on her horse, awaiting her husband as he spoke to a few members of the guard. She was gazing at him with a deeply dissatisfied expression on her face. He raised an eyebrow and tried to smile at her, but she frowned at him and turned her horse, making her way slowly into town as her husband mounted his horse to follow.

Strange folk, Arthur thought, and climbed onto his own horse.

~~~

“Try not to ignore our guests, please, Merlin,” Arthur scolded as they made their way to the feast hall.

“I never ignore guests,” Merlin protested, pulling at the ridiculous getup he was wearing. Arthur stifled a grin. He’d commissioned that one specially for tonight. The pointy hat and bells were just the perfect touch, in his opinion.

“You do,” Arthur insisted. “Instead of topping off my glass every time I take a sip, try to also pay attention to Lord and Lady Nicks. And Lord Gretlen’s daughters, too. Hopefully it will keep them away from me.”

He grumbled the last part lowly to Merlin, who rolled his eyes. Arthur realized, though, that he was also blushing slightly.

“I’ll have you know I have more important things to do than refill your glass every ten seconds,” Merlin snapped at him. “I’ll be happy to tend to Lord and Lady Nicks all evening, sire, if you can spare me for even five minutes.”

Arthur glared at him. “The stocks seem awfully cold this time of year, don’t they Merlin?”

Merlin was quiet for a bit, but Arthur heard when he started grumbling to himself.

Arthur came to a stop outside the doors to the feast hall, taking a deep breath. Merlin came to his side.

“If you need anything, sire, I will be right there,” Merlin assured him when he’d hesitated nearly a full minute.

Arthur glared at him. “What you think you can do for me, I have no idea.” He tried to step forward, but didn’t. Couldn’t. He tried again, consciously focusing on making his leg muscles move, but they didn’t budge.

He looked over at Merlin, whose brow was furrowed. “What’s going on?” he wondered aloud. Then he glanced up, and paled. Arthur followed his gaze, and felt his heart drop.

Mistletoe.

And they couldn’t move from under it.

 _It’s a spell_ , Arthur thought as he and Merlin slowly looked back at each other. He could see that Merlin had made the same realization.

And then their faces inched forward.

“What are you doing?” Arthur snapped at him before realizing that his head was also moving towards Merlin.

“I’m not - no no no.” Merlin cringed, closing his eyes as their faces were smushed together by an unseen force.

Arthur made a noise, staring at Merlin’s closed eyes and disgruntled expression as they stood there for a moment, their noses pressed uncomfortably against each other and their lips smooshed together. They stood there for a second or two before the force around them broke and they both stumbled back.

Arthur spit out on the floor. “Ugh! Merlin!”

“What?? That wasn’t my fault!” Merlin was wiping his tongue with his hand. Then they both stopped and looked at each other for a horrified moment. And then the doors opened in front of them.

“Merlin, Arthur!” Gwen smiled at them as she slipped through the door. “The King is waiting for you, your highness,” she chided as she walked between them and down the hall. Arthur stood up and stared at the door.

Someone had enchanted the mistletoe.

And Yuletide festivities had barely begun.

~~~

Luckily for Arthur, the feast room had only been defiled by mistletoe at the edges. The ceilings were far too high to reach for the servants, and so they had simply hung them near the windows on the exterior walls.

Nobody seemed to have noticed, yet, that the mistletoe was enchanted. Those who wandered beneath it usually seemed willing enough to exchange a small peck. Arthur even watched his father plant a chaste kiss on Lady Nicks, when they had paused accidentally under a bundle of leaves.

He sipped his wine and sought Merlin across the room. Merlin stood behind Lord Nicks, but he caught his eye immediately. They exchanged a meaningful look, and Merlin crept around the room to him.

Arthur set down his wine goblet, and Merlin leaned over the table to fill it. Filling it very slowly.

“Are you going to tell your father?” Merlin asked lowly. Arthur shook his head, and glanced up at him. Merlin was leaning very close by him, long neck outstretched as he focused on not overfilling Arthur’s goblet.

“So what will we do?”

Arthur didn’t respond, finding himself distracted for a moment by Merlin’s neck. He wasn’t wearing one of his neckerchiefs with the absurd outfit Arthur had dictated for him, and the tunic was actually loose enough on him that Arthur was, to his surprise, able to trace the shape of a collarbone with his eyes. Merlin’s neck turned a splotchy red, and Arthur glanced at his face to see that it was fully flushed.

“What?” Arthur asked, not remembering what Merlin said.

Merlin looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. “I asked what we’re going to do,” he hissed.

Arthur turned back to the table, surveying the partygoers all enjoying themselves. He didn’t want to ruin this evening. Mostly because it would make it a million times more exhausting.

His gaze fell upon Gaius, speaking to Geoffrey at the fringe of the feast. He leaned towards Merlin, who bent down a bit to hear him, his face still red.

“Go talk to Gaius about it,” he whispered. “He knows more about magic than anyone else. We will get his opinion first.”

Merlin frowned at Arthur. “I...think your father—“

“Will you just do as I say?” Arthur did not need to be told how furious his father would be if he found out this was being kept from him.

Merlin nodded curtly, and walked around the table, stopping to refill Lord Nicks’s goblet again before continuing to where Gaius stood.

“Must you fluster poor Merlin so much?”

Arthur picked up his goblet and looked at Morgana, who was retaking her seat beside him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve got him blushing all the way to his ears,” she told him, her tone accusatory. Gwen came behind her silently and filled her goblet.

Arthur shook his head at her. “He needs a good scolding, from time to time. He’s a lousy servant, and I’m trying to help him be better.”

“Didn’t look like a scolding to me,” she said, almost singing the words, taking a sip of her wine. Gwen’s eyes went wide and she glanced between Morgana and Arthur as she retreated, clearly stifling a laugh.

Arthur grumbled and put some bread into his mouth.

By the end of the feast he was agitated and tired, the wine having done its work at loosening his joints and heavying his eyelids. He and Merlin marched back towards his chambers through the dark and quiet halls. Quiet except for the jingle of the bells on Merlin’s stupid costume.

“What did Gaius say?” he asked him as soon as they were away from listening ears.

“He says if the mistletoe is enchanted, it’s probably a rather simple spell.” Merlin kept his voice quiet despite their total aloneness. “It would be easy to remove, except...”

Arthur waited a moment before prompting him. “Except?”

“That to remove it would require using magic, which is against the law.”

Arthur puffed out a frustrated breath, then let out a huge yawn, surprising himself. It must have been quite late. And the wine must have been quite strong.

“Are you feeling well, sire?” Merlin asked as he held open the door to Arthur’s chambers. Arthur entered ahead of him.

“Just tired,” he said simply. He went to stand by the fire, bracing an arm against the mantle. He stared at the flames and thought.

Merlin moved about the room, still jingling, readying everything for bed and finding Arthur’s nightclothes. He came up beside him and gestured for Arthur to allow him to begin removing layers of robes and armor.

Arthur straightened up and let Merlin remove his cloak, followed by his chain mail. “Tomorrow, I would like to go speak to Gaius myself. There’s no need to involve my father in something so trivial. He has more important things to attend to.” And I don’t want to deal with his temper, Arthur thought to himself. “I have an idea of who might have encanted the mistletoe.”

“And who’s that?”

“Lady Nicks,” Arthur said through gritted teeth.

“Lady Nicks?” Merlin sounded very surprised. “She doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“Not to be vicious. But this magic isn’t vicious. It’s disrespectful.”

“Though it’s not harming anyone.”

Arthur turned to face Merlin after he’s pulled off his padded jacket, his expression incredulous. “Did you get into the wine? Merlin, I was made to kiss you. That’s harm enough.”

Merlin frowned and opened his mouth to respond, then stopped. And looked up.

Arthur felt his heart stutter, and felt exhaustion pull at his wine-heavied eyelids at the thought. No. Not again.

When Merlin looked at Arthur again, he was cringing. “Sorry, sire?” he tried.

Arthur sighed, glancing up to see that, indeed, they stood beneath the big bundle of mistletoe Merlin had hung up the night before. He looked at Merlin, resigned. “All right, come on.”

Merlin cringed harder. “Ugh, do we have t—“

“Yes, Merlin, it’s been made quite clear that we have to, now stop being a simpering girl and get it over with.”

Merlin huffed out a huffy huff and squeezed his eyes shut, pursing his lips and standing perfectly still. Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned forward, putting a hand on the back of Merlin’s neck to hold him steady as he put their lips together.

To his surprise, once connected, he found he could not pull away. Physically. The mistletoe trapped his lips to Merlin’s for a long moment. So long, that Merlin relaxed a bit under his touch, his lips parting as he inhaled.

Arthur’s shock hit at the same moment that the spell broke, and he stepped back, looking at Merlin with his eyebrows raised. Merlin didn’t notice, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth and cringing once more.

Irritation pricked at Arthur, and he turned away. “Now will you please do your job for once and finish getting things ready for bed.”

“Yes, sire.”

Arthur was surprised, again, this time by Merlin’s lack of response. It was quiet between them as Merlin finished dressing him for bed, up until the moment he turned to leave, giving Arthur only his usual “Is there anything else you require, my lord?”

Arthur sent him away, and stared into the firelit room in aggravation.

~~~

In the morning, things were much brighter. Merlin brought hot breakfast to Arthur’s room right as he awoke, and selected some clothes to dress him in. When he was done eating, Merlin picked up the clothes to dress Arthur, but Arthur grabbed them from him.

“Sire?” Merlin asked, his eyebrows pulling together.

“I can dress myself,” Arthur muttered as answer. “I’d much rather you took down that damned mistletoe.” It was as if he could feel it hanging over him, taunting him.

“Of course, my lord.”

Arthur retreated behind his dressing screen. He also didn’t want to admit that he thought about Merlin’s parted lips and his long pale neck well into last night—much later than he would have thought reasonable, by any standards. Must have been the wine.

When he ventured back out, Merlin had somehow retrieved the mistletoe and tossed it into the fire. Arthur watched it burn with a weird feeling in his stomach, then turned to Merlin. “That’s one way to fix the problem, I suppose.”

Merlin frowned at him. “What?”

“Take down all the mistletoe. Burn it.”

“You’d have to tell your father to get him to agree to it,” Merlin pointed out.

Arthur made a face. Telling his father was not something he wanted to do.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” he asked. “Do we have time to go see Gaius now?”

“Yes, sire, if that’s what you’d like.”

“It is.” He clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, then felt uneasy. There were loads and loads of mistletoe hung all throughout the castle. He’d already been made to kiss Merlin twice. He didn’t want to make it three.

“However, before you join Gaius and I, clean up these breakfast dishes.” Arthur strode towards the door, expecting Merlin’s whine but ignoring it.

“Well, can’t they wait a bit?” he asked. “This whole enchanted mistletoe thing seems very important.”

“Meet me at Gaius’s room in fifteen minutes,” was the only response Arthur gave him before striding out the door and through the castle to the court physician’s chambers.

He knocked on the door instead of just barging in, but made sure to take a step back from the mistletoe hanging there. He wasn’t sure he could survive being made to kiss Gaius.

Gaius opened the door. “Sire,” he greeted him, holding it open for him.

“Thank you, Gaius.” Arthur entered the room, looking around as he always did. No matter how many times he came here, each time he was entranced by the tall shelves full of books on all subjects and tables and workbenches spread with plants and seeds and vials.

“Merlin told me about your suspicion last night,” Gaius was saying as he shut the door soundly. “I am curious as to how you came to realize the enchantment. All the others seem to still be oblivious.”

Arthur felt his cheeks go red and turned to Gaius. “Yes, well, notice it I have, haven’t I? Unless you believe me to be wrong?”

Gaius arched his eyebrow, and Arthur knew that he knew that he was hiding something. But he didn’t press it. “I think you are probably right. The lands to the north are not the same as Camelot or the five kingdoms. Magic has a very different relationship with the people there. It may not even be intentional.”

Arthur pursed his lips, pacing slowly about the room. “I think it was Lady Nicks who did it, intentional or not.”

“I think you are not far off there, either. Lady Nicks comes from a far older family than her husband’s. It is entirely possible, sire, that she doesn’t even comprehend that she has any magical ability. Though, a woman of her age from that region, I have to assume she’s made her guesses.”

“So how can we lift the spell?” Arthur wondered aloud. “If it was not even cast intentionally?”

“Forgive me if I speak out of turn, sire,” Gaius said, not sounding hesitant or apologetic about it at all actually. “But what harm is this enchantment really causing Camelot? The spell has been in place since at least the start of the feast yesterday evening, and no one else has noticed it. You’ve already decided, by coming here without him, that you’re not going to tell your father. Is it worth drawing his...attention—“ Rage was a better word, Arthur thought. “—over something so trivial?”

Arthur fumed for a moment as he kept pacing. “The harm it’s causing is disrespect towards Camelot,” he insisted in a firm voice. But even he knew he was reaching. If the spell was unintentional, no disrespect was meant. He just didn’t want to tell Gaius that the real reason was because it kept making him kiss Merlin.

 _Merlin_ , the bumbling idiot, Arthur thought to himself. With his stupid elegant neck and sharp suggestive collarbone and _parted lips_.

“Sire?”

Arthur started and stopped in his pacing, his face growing hot when he realized he’d been mumbling those thoughts aloud. He turned to Gaius, but there was a knock at the door. Gaius gave him a questioning look.

“That’ll be Merlin,” Arthur managed to get out, nodding. “Let him in.”

Gaius went to open the door, which Merlin nearly fell through. “Sorry I’m a bit late, sire,” he gasped out. He was winded; clearly he ran here from the kitchens after dropping off Arthur’s tray. “What did I miss?”

“Only what I hinted at last night,” Gaius answered, pushing him to stand straight and giving him a disapproving look. “Unintentional magic.”

Arthur wasn’t paying attention to their conversation. He was staring in horror at the green leaves hanging over their heads.

“Oh no.”

Gaius and Merlin looked at him, and Merlin immediately groaned at the look on his face, glancing up. “Oh, come _onnn_ ,” he griped loudly.

Gaius looked up, then back at Merlin, his face a mask of shock and horror. They looked at each other like that for a long moment, dreading, horrified. Arthur could barely think it. Kissing _Gaius_? He, personally, would rather do anything else. Or at least a number of other things.

When Merlin scruched up his face and leaned forward, clearly trying to cringe away around the magic that bound him, Arthur’s heart pounded faster. No no no.

He didn’t realize that he was striding over until he yanked Gaius out from under the mistletoe with both hands. This caused Merlin’s momentum to land the kiss - if one could even call it that - on Arthur’s cheek.

“Merlin,” Arthur scolded loudly, wiping his face in disgust.

“Wha?” Merlin opened his eyes and leaned back, his eyebrows raising. “Well how did you do that?”

“I just wondered if outside interference might be able to break the spell,” Arthur replied. Though honestly, he just didn’t want Merlin to kiss Gaius. Or, y’know, _have_ to kiss Gaius.

Arthur looked at him. “Are you alright, Gaius?”

The older man was clearly a bit shaken, but relieved. “Oh, yes. Thank you, sire.”

“Of course. Must protect the people of my kingdom, after all.” He patted Gaius’s shoulder absently. “Well, if that’s all.”

He pushed Merlin roughly out from under the mistletoe before striding beneath it out the door. “Thank you for your help, Gaius,” he said, pausing and turning back. “And for your confidence.”

Gaius nodded, not missing the request in the last statement. “A pleasure to serve you, my lord.”

Arthur kept walking, and Merlin jogged after him. “Wha - That’s it, then? The discussion is all over?”

“Yes, _Mer_ lin.”

“So what are we going to do?”

Arthur slowed, but was sure to look around carefully to avoid stopping under any mistletoe. “Nothing,” he grumbled. “I don’t want this to draw my father’s attention. After the year we’ve had...” He thought about how to word what he wanted to say. “I’d just rather this stupid holiday pass without another one of his outbursts, alright?”

Merlin looked doubtful, but nodded anyway. “Of course, sire.”

~~~

Arthur spent three days dodging Merlin or mistletoe or both.

It seemed that Merlin was entirely stupid, and was incapable of any kind of awareness as to where mistletoe had been hung around the castle. Arthur’d had to sidestep to avoid stopping beneath the treacherous bundles of leaves with him so many times, he wondered if the idiot was doing it on purpose. And then reminded himself that of course not, because Merlin didn’t want to kiss him, so why would he purposefully stop under mistletoe with him?

No, it was much more believable that Merlin was simply an idiot.

To make matters worse, the mistletoe and its tradition - or its curse - had brought a flirtatious air to the castle. It wasn’t just Merlin that Arthur had to look out for. While he thought not many of the servants and visiting nobility were bold enough to purposefully try to trap him under the mistletoe, it had almost happened on accident with Gwen, and two daughters of Lord Grelten, from the east, had followed him around for hours each, trying to casually stop near windows or on stairwells where mistletoe was present. It was honestly all getting to be rather very much, and Arthur had taken to hiding in his room whenever possible to avoid everyone and their devious tactics.

“If you’re so displeased,” Merlin was saying to him as they made their way to the armory, “perhaps you should tell your father so that something can be done.”

Arthur’s anger flared. “I love that you think you know more about protecting the kingdom than I do, Merlin.”

“But would this really apply to protecting the kingdom? I feel like this is more for your peace of mind.”

Arthur rounded on Merlin and shoved his shoulders, forcing him to back up against the stone wall of the corridor. He ground his teeth. “I should not like to hear you act as though you can speak for me, Merlin,” he spat out.

Merlin’s eyes narrowed. _Idiot_ , Arthur thought, grabbing the front of his jacket in a fist.

“Need I remind you how cold the stocks are this time of year?” Arthur hissed. Was this idiot really going to push his luck right now?

Merlin seemed nearly incapable of getting his mouth to form his response, but finally managed out a very insincere, “Of course, sire, sorry, sire.”

Arthur wasn’t entirely satisfied, but he decided to let it go before he hit him. He shoved against Merlin’s chest as he stepped away, but found he couldn’t step away. Because some kind of force bound him within this area. Until it’s price had been paid.

He glanced up only enough to see a blur of green and white, thought Oh gods, to hell with it, then pushed Merlin firmly against the wall and planted his lips on him.

Arthur heard Merlin make a surprised sound as he unloaded his frustration into the kiss, pressing hard against Merlin’s mouth. Their lips parted in tandem and Arthur gripped Merlin’s jacket in his hands, biting on his lower lip and illiciting another, even more surprised sound from his servant. The scent of Merlin’s breath, hot on his face, and the wet slide of his lips made him shudder before he pushed away, breathing hard and staring at Merlin. He stared right back, eyes wide.

“And watch where we’re bloody walking, will you,” he grumbled, giving Merlin one last shove before he continued towards the armory. It was a moment before he heard Merlin’s hasty, fumbling footsteps behind him.

“Y-Yes, sire.”

~~~

Luckily for Arthur, days later, just as his frustration mounted indescribably, an outpost of Mercian bandits was reported in a border town, and to his delight he was able to convince his father to allow him to lead the knights against it. He needed to get out of this blasted castle, away from their annoying guests, and out from under the damned mistletoe.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to leave Merlin at home. Although he hated to admit it, because it raised a fair number of questions in his mind, he did indeed want some time away from Merlin to get all his confusing thoughts in order. Thoughts about Merlin’s soft, wet lips and about those little sounds he’d squeezed from him when they’d kissed in the corridor near the armory. He certainly wanted time in the fresh, cool air of the forest to figure out what it all meant, and it would be easier to think clearly with Merlin miles away back in Camelot. However, he very much wanted someone along to cook dinner and feed and water the horses and get pushed around by the knights for the laughs, so along came Merlin.

The day’s ride to the border did wonders for Arthur’s mood immediately. Without the stress of wondering every second when his father would discover the enchantment upon the mistletoe and how quickly to expect the shouting to start, he could breathe easier. And being with Leon and his knights brought back out his jauntiness, his jokes and his smiles. He even managed a few jabs and grins for Merlin, despite everything, which were received with crescent-moon eyes above dazzling smiles. It made Arthur’s chest hurt.

They camped for the night in the village where the bandits had been reported. It was already dark by the time they were setting up tents, and Merlin had managed to get himself tangled up in Arthur’s so many times that Arthur genuinely thought he was going to tear something. He walked over and grabbed Merlin’s shoulder.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” he asked.

“Pitching your tent, sire?” Merlin seemed unsure, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You’re going to break something. Look, give it here, you go make supper.”

Merlin’s eyebrows shot up, visible even in the dim light of the evening. “Then who will pitch your tent?”

“I will.”

“You—“

Arthur shoved him towards the fire before he could keep arguing. “Just shut up and go.”

He watched Merlin stumbled off to gather the pots and pans, and noticed Leon watching him.

“Everything alright, sire?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Arthur gave him a tight smile.

“Fine.” He shoved his tent cavases at him. “Pitch this for me, will you?”

Arthur walked a ways into the forests bordering the village, gazing out into the night. The sound of wind in the branches was chilling in the winter silence. The lack of insect sounds was somehow lonely. Arthur found himself left with his thoughts, and they quickly went where he wished they wouldn’t. To the feeling of Merlin’s taught chest under his fists, beneath the fabric of his shirt and jacket. To the exhileration of laying into Merlin roughly, illiciting those surprised sounds from him as he worked at his lips with his own. He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

This was no good. Even here, away from the castle and the mistletoe, away from Merlin for the moment, his thoughts couldn’t be reined in. He found himself wishing they were back, honestly. Wishing they would stop coincidentally beneath a cursed bloody bundle of sticks and leaves so he might have another excuse to taste Merlin, only this time maybe more tenderly...

A snapping twig caught his attention, and he froze with his head bowed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He listened. His other hand drifted slowly, so slowly, to the hilt of his sword...

Another rustling sound, and he whirled around, bringing his sword from its sheath and raising it to block a blow from an attacker from behind. He stared hard and cold into the eyes of a Mercian bandit, who looked wildly back at him.

“Arthur!”

Before he could respond, his attacker swung again. He deflected the bow, taking a step back, but heard more movement from behind him. The rest of the bandits. He ground his teeth, slashing at his foe and slicing his arm before turning to face the others behind him. “Leon!” he called.

Three more ruffians rushed at him from the woods. Before they got close, though, a low-hanging tree branch shuddered and cracked off of its trunk, knocking one mercenary to the ground and clipping the other on the shoulder and throwing him off-balance. Arthur turned his focus to the remaining one, a big brute weilding what seemed to be a huge, solid club.

He heard shouting from the village. More Mercians slithered from the woods and dashed at his approaching knights. Arthur kept his focus on the big guy, ducking under a powerful swing of his club. As he righted himself, he noticed Merlin standing at the edge of the fray, looking around like a terrified idiot.

“Merlin!” he yelled, his tone scolding. He jumped back from another swing of the club. “What on earth are you doing? Either fight or get out of here!”

Merlin started to yell something in response, but Arthur was distracted by ducking around the behemoth that was attacking him, dodging his club and taking a slice at the back of his knee. The bandit shouted, dropping to one knee. He was quick to recover, though, using his club to push himself back to his feet. Arthur braced himself for another swing, but then the club slipped on the muddy forest floor, and the bandit stumbled off balance. Arthur raised his sword and ran forward, piercing the bandit through his back to one side.

The bandit yelled out and collapsed. Arthur pulled his sword from his body and stumbled back. He drew in heaving breaths and looked around, for his knights, and desperately for Merlin. He was standing where he was before, but huddled more against a tree, breathing heavily. Arthur huffed, walking towards him as his knights ran the rest of the bandits off into the woods.

“What did I say?” Arthur snapped at Merlin as he approached him. “Fight or leave.”

“I was fighting,” Merlin insisted. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

“Cowering against a tree is hardly putting up the most resistance.” Arthur walked right up to him, only stopping when they were inches apart. Merlin didn’t respond, just looking at him, wide-eyed.

Arthur swallowed loudly. His muscles were still twitching from the height of the fight; his breaths kept heaving from his chest. His eyes slid down to Merlin’s lips, parted, confused, red from the cold and full and—

“Sire! Shall we make chase?”

Arthur’s hands turned into fists by his sides and he turned from Merlin. He straightened his back at the sight of Sir Leon.

“No,” he replied, trying to regain control of himself. “Not in the dark in unfamiliar woods. We’d be at a disadvantage.”

“They’ll use the night to prepare for our attacks tomorrow,” another knight put in. Arthur frowned at him.

“Better than having the land used against us when we’re already sore from a full day’s ride. We will wait for the morning.” Arthur turned and headed back towards the village. The people, having come curiously from their homes, were gathered near the fire in their camp. He felt Merlin follow behind him.

“Plus, it’s not like it’s a secret we’re here,” Merlin commented. “They no doubt had scouts in the woods nearby. They would have used the night to prepare either way. The only real threat is that they’ll run—“

“Merlin?”

“Yes, my lord?”

Arthur savored the words for a moment before continuing. “Shut up. Leave the strategy to me, will you?”

“Yes, sire,” came Merlin’s sarcastic reply, and Arthur smirked.

“How long on dinner? I’m starving after such a fight.”

“I would hardly think so, you took him down like he was nothing! Do you think there are many more of them? This will be too easy, from the looks of it, I should think we’ll be heading home tomorrow by noon at the latest...”

Arthur wished he knew why he couldn’t stop smiling.

~~~

Merlin was right.

The bandit encampment was so small, they wiped out most of it with their scuffle that night. The next morning, they went to finish it off, and found half a dozen wounded Mercians fighting wildly and desperately. Honestly, if they hadn’t been so aggressive, Arthur would have ordered his knights to stand down and offered to let them return to Mercia, but as it was there was no chance of getting them to calm down, and in the end they were all snuffed out.

Which meant they were indeed on the way back to Camelot by the afternoon. Merlin was almost sleeping in his saddle, and Arthur reached over to shove him. Merlin yelped and clutched at his horse’s mane to avoid falling over.

“We’ve barely been riding an hour,” Arthur chastised him. “You’re sleeping already?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night,” Merlin complained around a huge yawn. “It’s not my fault.”

“I bet it is. Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

“Too cold,” Merlin grumbled. Even now, he pulled his jacket tighter around his middle.

Arthur caught himself raising his hand, to pat Merlin’s shoulder, but he stopped himself. He cleared his throat. “Well, in no time we’ll be back in Camelot. You can sleep warmly tonight.” Arthur’s thoughts ran wildly out of line, and he stopped speaking.

“I could, if it was warm in my room,” came Merlin’s grumbled reply. Arthur started to get distracted by that - he didn’t know it was cold in Gaius’s chambers all winter - but Sir Leon rode up beside him.

“My lord,” he started. “Will we be camping again tonight? I fear we may not reach Camelot before nightfall.”

“No,” Arthur replied immediately. “There will be no more cold, sleepless nights.” He said that mostly to himself before raising his voice again. “We will ride on. We stop when we reach Camelot.”

Sir Leon looked very put-upon, but he nodded. “Yes, sire.”

Arthur looked straight ahead, refusing to give either himself or Merlin the satisfaction of looking over at him.

The ride was long and cold, especially when night fell, but they reached the castle all the same, several hours after dark. Arthur dismounted his horse, exhausted, and Guinevere rushed down the castle steps towards him.

“My lord!” she cried. “We were not aware you would be returning tonight. I am so sorry, if Lady Morgana can spare me, I’ll prepare your rooms right away.”

“Thank you—“

“No.”

Arthur glared at Merlin for interrupting him, but Merlin didn’t notice. “No, I’m here,” he said firmly. “I will prepare Prince Arthur’s rooms straight away.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Merlin you just rode a full day—“

“I can do it.” He huffed at the two of them and pulled Arthur’s saddlebags from his horse, heading towards the castle. Gwen rushed after him.

“Well, let me help you...”

Arthur watched them go for a moment before turning to help his knights with their horses.

Before long, he was heading inside, the long day’s ride having taken its toll on him. His eyelids drooped and his shoulders felt as if they could barely support the weight of his chainmail. He rounded the corner down the corridor that led to his chambers, and stopped short.

Outside the door to his rooms stood Merlin and Gwen, sharing a kiss. Arthur quickly stepped back around the corner, peering at them. Merlin stood with his hands clasped behind his back, leaning down to press his lips to Gwen’s. She was on her toes a bit to reach him, grasping his jacket for support.

Arthur could feel and hear his heart beating in his chest. They stood there like that, completely still, for a few seconds before parting. Gwen laughed.

“Such a funny tradition, don’t you think?” she commented.

“I’m certainly glad Camelot doesn’t have to deal with it every year,” Merlin replied. He was turned away from Arthur, so he couldn’t see his face, which he found very irritating indeed. He retreated back fully behind the corner, straightened up, then strode into view.

“Ah, Merlin,” he called. Merlin and Gwen both straightened up fully at the sight of him.

“Sire?”

“Are my rooms ready for bed?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Good.” He walked past them and pushed open the door to his room. “Help me out of this armor, will you.”

“Of course, sire.”

Arthur nodded. “Goodnight, Guinevere. Thank you for your help.”

Merlin also stuttered out a goodnight for Gwen before following Arthur into his chambers. Arthur didn’t turn to face him, taking a moment. It was just mistletoe, he told himself. They were only kissing under the mistletoe.

Merlin came up behind him and started undoing the buckles on his hauberk. Arthur stared at the fire.

“Is she good?”

“Who?”

“Gwen. At kissing.”

Merlin’s hands slowed. “What?”

“I just...you were standing under the mistletoe,” Arthur said, trying to think. “I figured you must have kissed. Because of the spell.”

Merlin was quiet for a moment, removing Arthur’s hauberk. “Wasn’t much of a kiss, really. Just a peck. Nothing li...”

Merlin trailed off and cleared his throat. “Why do you ask, anyway?” Was that a hint of irritation? “Thinking of kissing her yourself?”

“No,” Arthur replied simply.

“Imagine what your father would say about that.” Merlin chuckled. “You, kissing a servant.”

They were both quiet after that, Arthur turning Merlin’s words around in his head, his brow furrowed. Merlin reached to remove his chainmail, and he lifted his arms compliantly.

Merlin readied Arthur for bed and then stood near the door. “Is there anything else, sire?” His voice sounded very quiet to Arthur, even after their long silence.

“No,” Arthur replied just as quietly. Merlin nodded and walked out the door. Arthur looked up, and dashed after him.

“Wait.”

He grabbed Merlin’s arm, pulling him to a stop in the hall. Merlin looked at him, confused. Arthur felt his heart in his throat, adrenaline pumping but nowhere to go, just looking back at Merlin.

“Sire?” Merlin glanced up, towards the ceiling, and Arthur tugged him closer, putting a hand on the back of his neck to hold him in place as he kissed him.

Merlin didn’t make the surprised sound Arthur was expecting. Instead, he grunted appreciatively, his hands gripping Arthur’s shoulders and his mouth falling open. Arthur resisted the urge to slip his tongue in there, remembering his wish in the woods to kiss Merlin tenderly. And so he did. He lavished Merlin’s lips with long kisses, bringing his free hand up to cup his face, trace his sharp cheekbone with one finger... Merlin made another sound into Arthur’s mouth, lower, deeper. His hands started to drift up Arthur’s shoulders to his neck, before finally Arthur broke away.

They stared at each other in silence for a long, long moment. Arthur searched Merlin’s face for some kind of insight; joy or disgust or shock or anything. But Merlin was merely wide-eyed and open. Surprised, but again like he had no overbearing opinion on the matter of kissing. It was infuriating.

“Well?” Arthur hissed, still breathless. Merlin blinked at him.

“Well what?”

“Why do you keep letting me kiss you?” Arthur blurted out, his face turning red.

Merlin’s face began to flush in return. “M...Mistletoe...”

Arthur ground his teeth. This was not a mistletoe kiss. A mistletoe kiss was what he did with Gwen. A peck, polite, following a custom or the rules of a spell. Merlin let Arthur _adore_ him with his mouth. He ran his fingers through the hair at Merlin’s neck, giving a frustrated tug, and Merlin’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

“Mistletoe?” Arthur grumbled. He pushed Merlin away from him. He turned to walk back into his chambers.

“Arth—“

“Wait there.”

Arthur went to his bed and grabbed two extra blankets from the foot of it. He wouldn’t miss them, there were about five already layered together across the top of it. He walked back into the hallway and pushed the bundled blankets against Merlin’s chest.

“Sire?” Merlin breathed, his expression wary.

“Take these with you to Gaius’s chambers,” Arthur told him. “One for you and one for him.”

“Arthur, I can’t take—“

“You can and you will because I said so,” Arthur snapped at him. He began walking towards his rooms again. “No more cold, sleepless nights.”

He closed the door hard behind him, and stood against it for a moment. He covered his eyes with his hands.

What was he doing? Merlin was right. Imagine what his father would say—kissing a servant—kissing a _man_ —kissing _Merlin_...

No matter what, nothing of substance could come of this. Even _if_ Arthur felt anything genuinely deep for Merlin, he would never be allowed to be his equal. He was by no means of noble blood, of anything even close to it. So what did it matter if Merlin like kissing him or he liked kissing Merlin?

Did he even feel anything intense for Merlin? Or was he just...kissing him because they’d already kissed? Was it worth the trouble? He took a deep breath, rubbing his forehead. No. It felt different. He remembered dodging the young ladies of the visiting nobles before their trip to the border. He dreaded getting caught with them. Merlin...he dreaded getting caught with Merlin, too, but for very different reasons.

He traced a finger over his lips, remembering the slick, hot feeling of kissing Merlin. He shuddered a bit and pushed away from the door to flop on his bed. Morning. He would deal with this problem more in the morning.

~~~

He awoke to clinking dishes and lifted his head, confused. He had fallen asleep on his stomach right where he’d landed, and was in the same position still. There was no light coming around his curtains, and he turned over, confused. Merlin was arranging breakfast on his table.

“Merlin?”

Merlin turned to him and gave him a shaky smile. “Breakfast, sire.” He turned back, and Arthur frowned, looking around again.

“It’s dark,” he stated stupidly. Merlin nodded.

“There seems to be quite a storm brewing outside. It’s good we pushed through home, last night. It would be terrible to be caught out in that.”

Arthur got to his feet and staggered to the window, opening the curtain and pushing the window open. Cold air blasted his face, and he peered out at the dark clouds swirling above. Already some snow flurries floated around the castle courtyard. He closed the window and wiped his face.

“What...is on my agenda for today?” He looked at Merlin again, who refused to turn to him.

“Have you forgotten, sire?”

Arthur stared at him. “What?”

Merlin glanced at him. “It’s the day before Yule, my lord.”

Arthur felt the world slide away for a moment. Yule was tomorrow. He was overcome with a series of emotions. Joy, and relief. Finally, in two days, all of this would be over. All of the visitors would be going home in the next four days at most. No more Lord and Lady Nicks snickering at him from the corner, no more young ladies trying to court him at their fathers’ requests. Plus, the mistletoe would be coming down, and if all went well his father would never know it was enchanted. No more excuses to kiss Merlin.

The negative emotions hit after the positive. No more convenient excuses to kiss Merlin. He would have to either be forthcoming or let it go. Plus, the biggest feast of the season was tomorrow. If anything were to go wrong, that sure would be the day for it. And what was he going to give Morgana for a Yuletide gift?

“Sire?”

Arthur blinked and looked at Merlin. “What?” he asked, confused.

“Are you alright?” Merlin stood close by his side, looking tentative. Arthur shook his head.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat, going to the table. “I just don’t know what I’m going to give Morgana. I completely forgot.”

“Well aren’t you lucky you have me, sire?”

Arthur started to glare at him, until he noticed what Merlin was holding out to him. An elegant quill, long and black with a hint of yellow and red at the end, and a fine leather journal with fanciful embossings. He looked up at Merlin and grinned.

“Wherever did you get these?” he asked with a laugh. He took them from Merlin, looking them over.

“Don’t give me too much credit. You got them weeks ago, but I knew you’d forget about it.”

Arthur grinned at Merlin. He put the book on the table and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Well, I suppose you’re not as terrible a manservant as I thought.”

Merlin smiled back at him crookedly, turning away. “Today you have a variety of activities in store with our variety of guests before they leave.”

Arthur groaned and sat down in front of his breakfast. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I can get out of them, eh? Do they know I just rode for two days to kill a band of Mercians terrorizing a village?”

“I doubt it, sire. I’ll see what I can do about getting you away from the outings, but no promises.”

“Of course not,” Arthur grumbled, chewing on a sausage.

After breakfast, Merlin hurried to get Arthur dressed and ready before they went out to meet the first group of the day. Arthur noted with a twinge of annoyance that Merlin joined Gwen and the other servants hanging back as the nobility made preparations to ride.

Arthur started to get distracted thinking about last night and this morning and Merlin’s lack of recognition of this thing between them. Maybe Merlin didn’t even like kissing him. Maybe he was just letting him do as he liked because he was Crown Prince. Merlin wouldn’t do that, would he? He certainly wouldn’t respond the way he was responding if that was it...would he??

His stressing was interrupted by Lady Nicks. “I am pleased to see you returned unharmed, my lord,” she said, coming up beside him. She was bundled warmly in furs and thick, dyed fabrics of red and blue. Arthur managed a small smile for her.

“Thank you, Lady Nicks. I trust the castle has not been too boring, in my absence. My father knows how to entertain, after all.”

“He surely does.” He saw, for the first time on her, a smile of pure and genuine joy and fondness, before her expression became somehow put-on. “But I’m afraid you did indeed take the best entertainment with you when you went.”

Her eyes flashed from Arthur to the group of servants on the other side of the courtyard. Arthur followed her gaze to see Merlin staring their direction blankly. When Arthur’s eyes met his, he startled and looked away, to where Gwen was speaking with a visiting lady’s maid.

Arthur tried to ignore the flush he could feel rising as he turned back to Lady Nicks. He forced out a chuckle. “I’m afraid I don’t understand your meaning, ma’am.”

She all but rolled her eyes at him. “I suppose you don’t.” She instead glowered at the dark clouds above them. “Do you suppose the storm will hold off until we return from the hunt? I should hate to be caught in a blizzard in unfamiliar woods.”

“We’ll turn back at the first sign of breakage,” he assured her. She smiled at him a little, but said nothing more as Uther was now descending the castle steps.

The group saddled up and rode into the forest. Arthur noticed Merlin was still hanging back, allowing him to ride with the other nobles while himself and the rest of the servants rode in the back. He slowed, turning to look for him, and Merlin pulled beside him.

“My lord?”

“Ride closer to me,” Arthur ordered. He saw Morgana also slowing ahead, an annoying smirk plastered on her face, and frowned. “With your luck, you’ll fall off and I won’t know,” he added, before picking up again. Merlin kept pace a bit behind.

“Sorry, are you worrying about me?” Merlin called to him, taunting, and Arthur ground his teeth. He glared over his shoulder at him.

“Yes. Alright?”

Merlin seemed surprised as Arthur turned back ahead and picked up his pace to catch the back of the group. He heard Merlin following close behind. Morgana raised an eyebrow at Arthur, but didn’t say anything to him.

They rode for about half an hour before slowing. The servants dismounted and set out blankets and chairs for the women while the servants and the knights readied the bows. Merlin brought over Arthur’s crossbow and bolts and readied him, taking his cloak and draping it over a chair.

“The storm looks bad, sire,” Merlin muttered to him. The air was still full of flurries, and the snow was sticking to the ground in places. The wind was also starting to blow harsh and cold through the trees and the sky was dark and angry above them. Arthur glanced around before returning his gaze to Merlin.

“I agree,” he said lowly. “But of course my father will be unmoved. Hopefully we can catch something early and be home before anyone catches their death.”

“I’ll be sure to rile up the wildlife properly,” Merlin chuckled. He sniffled, and Arthur noticed that his ears and nose were both turning pink already from the chill and the ride.

“Are you warm enough?” Arthur asked without thinking. Merlin looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Don’t see what difference it makes,” Merlin grumbled, turning his attention to Arthur’s bolts, checking them over unnecessarily. Arthur glanced at the crowd around them, then grabbed his cloak from the chair.

“Here.” He nudged Merlin’s shoulder with it. “You can wrap yourself in it.” He cleared his throat, nudging Merlin again, and he took it, his face unreadable. “Don’t need my servant falling ill,” he commented, too loudly to be casual.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, sounding unsure. Arthur shook his head at himself, then walked into the crowd of gossiping nobles.

After narrowly avoiding getting sucked into a conversation with Lord Grelten’s daughters, Arthur wandered over to Morgana. She raised her eyebrow at him again, and he immediately regretted approaching her.

“So what was all that about, then, Arthur?” she asked as he walked up. He smiled at her fakely.

“Whatever do you mean, Morgana?” He nodded at Gwen who stood behind Morgana, huddled in a shawl.

“When you held Merlin back?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she took a sip of her drink. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Just giving that idiot some instructions on how to behave around the nobles,” he lied. “Honestly, it’s like he never learns.”

“Really?” She set her cup down, smirking. “He’s made no offensive move that I’ve noticed. Not in the whole time we’ve had guests this season.”

“Well then it was a reminder,” Arthur snapped. Morgana raised her eyebrows again, and adjusted the dark fur wrapped around her shoulders.

“Gwen,” she called softly, tapping her cup, and Guinevere moved forward to refill it for her. Arthur noted in Gwen the same signs of the cold that Merlin bore—red nose, pink cheeks, threadbare shawl wrapped as far around her as she could get it. He frowned.

“Guinevere,” he started, and she looked up. “Merlin just set down my cloak, when we arrived. You look as though you’ll catch your death in this chill. I beg that you retrieve it to keep yourself warm.”

Morgana gave Arthur a look while Gwen stuttered refusals. “Are you allowed to tell my lady’s maid what to do?” she asked. Arthur sighed.

“Morgana, she’s freezing.” He closed his eyes and tried again. “Would it bother you to have her watch my cloak? I need Merlin on the hunt with us.”

“Of course.” She gave Gwen a sweet smile. “Do this favor for him, Gwen, I don’t mind.”

Guinevere was flushed even more, but she nodded. “Thank you, my lady—sire.” She nodded at Arthur and quickly stepped away, fleeing to Merlin’s side. Arthur watched her, noting the relief on Merlin’s face when he handed the cloak over to her. Of course, Arthur thought. How would it look for him to be wrapped in my cloak? Shouldn’t put him in that sort of awkward position.

“Out with it, Arthur.”

Arthur blinked and turned to Morgana again. “Pardon?”

She glared at him. “Merlin. What are you doing with him?”

“Nothing,” he snapped in a tone meant to close the subject. But her expression grew angry.

“What do you think this is? Some kind of game? I thought you actually cared about Merlin as a person, but if you’re using him for—“

“Morgana!” he hissed, looking around. He moved closer to her. “Will you be quiet? What if my father heard you?”

“Yes, what if he did? Are you even thinking—“

“Do you think I’m not thinking about it?” Arthur snapped. “I know quite well what’s expected of the Crown Prince of Camelot. I know quite well what kind of future I have laid out for me. I know what my options are, Morgana, it’s a difficult situation.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “So you’re admitting it?” She seemed surprised, and Arthur felt his face burning red.

“Never mind,” he grumbled. “Leave me alone, would you?” He turned and walked aimlessly away, not sure where he was going, but luckily his father signalled for the hunt to start.

The men gathered at the edge of the clearing and split into smaller groups. Arthur and Merlin found themselves in a group with Lord Nicks and Sirs Jaimis and Hearking. Arthur was glad to be around his knights as opposed to more strange guests as Merlin went ahead of them rustling bushes.

“Do you think the storm will hold off, sire?” Sir Hearking asked him after a few minutes of strolling along behind Merlin.

“Hopefully long enough to catch something worthwhile,” Arthur replied, though really he just wanted to go inside and sit by his fire for a few hours.

“I hope we catch something soon then,” Lord Nicks put in. They all crept forward a few steps. Arthur gave him a curious look, and Lord Nicks smiled ruefully back at him. “My wife did not want to come out into the cold today,” he explained. “And she has quite a gift for getting her way.”

Arthur turned his attention back to Merlin. Yes, it sure seemed like she did.

Merlin froze up ahead, and Arthur stopped in turn. Merlin glanced over his shoulder at him and nodded ahead of them and to the right. Arthur eased to the left and spotted it—a huge elk nibbling on a bush a ways off.

Oh, yes. Arthur signalled for the others to keep still and quiet and lifted his crossbow. He could take it down with one bolt, if he aimed right. He took a moment, trying to focus properly, and the elk shifted. Arthur’s adrenaline rushed and he pulled the trigger too soon; his aim was off.

“Damn,” he exclaimed, lowering his crossbow. But when he looked the elk was down, bolt in its neck exactly where he’d wanted it.

“Sire!” Sir Jaimis exclaimed. “Absolutely excellent shot!”

“Remarkable, my lord,” Lord Nicks agreed, a wide smile brightening his face. Arthur was surprised still, but he smiled at them.

“Thank you.” He walked forward to join Merlin next to the elk, crouching beside him.

“Great shot, sire,” Merlin said casually. Arthur’s smile widened.

“It’s weird, though,” he said, his tone unsure. “I was sure I’d missed it.”

Merlin shrugged. “Guess you didn’t.” He looked at Arthur and gave him a big, heart-stopping grin. “Leave it to you to shoot a ginormous elk not fifteen minutes into the hunt. Crown Prince of Camelot, indeed.”

Arthur felt a thrill travel through his body, and he had to look away from Merlin and catch his breath. When he managed to glance back at him, his eyes were still sparkling and fond.

“Tell my father for me, would you?” he breathed. Merlin nodded.

“Yes, sire.”

Merlin stood and jogged off to find the king, and Arthur stayed on the ground near the elk, breathless, elated, frustrated, and wanting. He looked over his shoulder at Lord Nicks and his knights conversing.

“Sir Jaimis.”

“Yes, sire?” The man walked up to him, and he stood.

“Fetch two spare manservants to help with this thing.”

“Of course, sire.”

Eventually, Merlin returned with Uther to confirm the kill, and the king was overjoyed at Arthur’s catch. The other servants helped Merlin haul it back to the starting point, much to the surprise and elation of the women, and not five minutes later the skies and the winds unleashed upon them.

“That was sudden,” Morgana commented as the servants hurried to collect the blankets and things as snow plummeted around them and the wind whipped at skirts and blankets. “Lucky you caught something before all this broke, eh, Arthur?”

Arthur gave a noncommittal response, ushering her to her horse. “You and Gwen get back to the castle as quick as you can. Try to keep the rest of the women organized and entertained, will you?”

“Whatever you say,” she replied in a fake, sweet, singsong voice. He helped her mount her horse. Gwen pulled Arthur’s cloak from her shoulders.

“Sire—“

“Keep it, Gwen,” he told her, steering her to her horse as well. “I’ll retrieve it when I return. Just keep yourself warm and take care of everyone for me, alright?”

She nodded and wrapped the cloak around herself again before mounting the horse. She and Morgana formed the head of the return party. Arthur looked around and spotted Lady Nicks trotting towards them on her white mare, a satisfied look on her face. He ignored her and focused on Merlin and the servants struggling with the huge carcass of the elk. He went to help them get it sorted.

Within fifteen minutes, the last of the men were on their way back to the castle, Arthur leading the way. The blizzard limited visibility, and it was only getting worse every minute. He was also very much noticing the absence of his cloak, and he gripped the reins tightly to combat the shivering.

When they did reach Camelot nearly an hour after starting back, they were all frozen nearly through. Arthur left the knights to tend to the horses and helped see the elk through to the kitchens, who were ready and waiting for it. He sent the other servants on their way and hurried inside with Merlin.

“I’ll get a fire started straight away,” Merlin chattered at him. “And some fresh clothes for you, sire.”

“Right,” Arthur replied absently, noting how the castle halls were barely warmer than the blizzard outside. “I need to know what my father wants to do about the rest of the plans for today.”

“Surely they’d be cancelled, right?” Merlin gave him an odd look. “He wouldn’t try to reschedule some boring indoor activity, would he?”

“I don’t know, Merlin.” Arthur looked him over, wondering what was wrong with him.

Merlin grumbled to himself as they entered Arthur’s chambers, going directly to the fireplace and piling some logs and kindling and getting the fire going in record time, still muttering to himself all the while. Arthur stood very near the fire as Merlin located fresh, dry clothes for him. The warmth after so long in the cold was almost too much; his fingers felt like they were burning.

“I hate winter,” he complained aloud. “Can’t I just sleep until it’s spring again?”

Merlin’s laugh sounded from behind him in the room. “You want to hibernate? Like a bear?”

“I just want it to be warm,” Arthur corrected. “And I want the castle to myself again. This year’s Yule has been so rife with trouble. I’ll be glad when this whole mess is over.”

“Especially the mistletoe?” Merlin asked, his voice too uninterested. Arthur’s heart stuttered.

There was a short silence while Arthur contemplated how to respond. He finally glanced at Merlin. “The mistletoe I may miss.”

Merlin stumbled over his own feet on his way to Arthur’s wardrobe. He caught himself against it.

“Hmm,” he muttered noncommitally, opening it up. Arthur sighed and turned his back on the fire to watch Merlin collect his tunic and shut the wardrobe. When he turned to Arthur, his expression was careful.

“Tell me to stop,” Arthur said firmly. Merlin blinked at him.

“Wha?”

“If you don’t...like it.” He crossed his arms, feeling uncomfortable, out of place. “Tell me to stop. Kissing you.”

Merlin fidgeted. “I mean weren’t you just—because of the mistle—“

“No.” Arthur closed his eyes. He straightened up, but he couldn’t make himself look at Merlin while he said this. “The mistletoe became a convenient excuse.”

He cringed in the silence that followed, and eventually made himself open his eyes. Merlin looked extremely uncomfortable, and Arthur’s heart sank.

“If you hate it,” he managed to say through a tight throat, “then obviously this is the end of the conversation.”

“I don—“ Merlin cut himself off and flushed. Arthur waited, the crackle of the fire the only thing he could hear, but Merlin didn’t seem to know what to say.

“Come here, Merlin.”

Merlin looked at him, and Arthur turned to the fire, flopping himself onto the stone floor. He patted the space beside him, and a moment later Merlin sat in it, Arthur’s clothes collected in his lap.

They sat in silence for a bit, watching the fire, feeling it warm them. Finally, Arthur spoke.

“There’s not much I can offer you,” he said lowly. “In all my life, I cannot imagine a world in which we are able to be public about any aspect of any personal relationship.”

Merlin flushed. “Arthur—“

“ _But_ ,” Arthur continued, giving him a disapproving look for interrupting, “I can promise you will always have a job, and you will always be at my side. For as long as that is what we want.”

“Isn’t that just it, though?” Merlin asked, his voice rough. “How am I to know how long you will want me here? And what will you do with me when you’re done? My life is to serve you, Arthur.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at the fire, shocked by the raw devotion in Merlin’s voice, but kept listening.

“If we do this and one day you want me gone, I’m sorry, but that’s just not something I can do. My duty, my life, is to protect and serve you in every way I possibly can. Unto my death, Arthur. If...if this makes it all go wrong somehow, if _this_ makes you one day decide you cannot have me around anymore because of what we once were and at some point no longer can be...” Merlin shook his head. “The risk...”

Merlin seemed lost in thoughts that were beyond Arthur. But he did understand one thing he was saying.

“I know better,” he started, “than to promise forevers that I have no control over. I’m not stupid, Merlin.”

Merlin scoffed, and Arthur smirked. “But I also know that I am not a coward. And I do not let the risks outweigh the gain. And I know you’re no coward, either.”

Merlin was quiet. “There are things you don’t know about me,” he said softly, the strain and anxiety still in his voice. “Things you’d never guess.”

It was Arthur’s turn to scoff. “Right, I’m sure you’re a very deep person, Merlin.” He looked over at him, the lines of his face made sharp in the firelight, his dark brows furrowed over his blue eyes. “But I want to learn those things.”

Merlin glanced at him. “You’re not playing a joke on me?”

“What kind of terrible joke would this be?” Arthur shook his head. “Honestly, it makes me look stupider than it does you.”

Merlin chuckled a little and fussed with Arthur’s tunic in his lap, tying and untying the lacing. He bit at his lip as he did it, and Arthur watched him, watched his teeth sink into his full bottom lip, leaving the skin there a dark red in their trace—

“You can’t go around offering me your cloak,” Merlin said. “You said yourself that...it can’t be...known.”

“Right.” Arthur forced himself to look back at the fire. “Subtlety will be key.”

“And are you really still going to make me muck out your stables?”

“Didn’t I promise to let you keep your job?” Arthur joked in response, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you sure?” Merlin’s voice was much quieter, and Arthur couldn’t bring himself to look at him.

“I am unsure of many things in my life, Merlin. Especially things I want, compared to things that are dictated for me. But I am sure...that I think all the risk in the world is worth it.”

“You may be risking more than you think,” Merlin warned him. Arthur looked at him, scrutinizing. Merlin looked very serious, and actually, very much older than he normally did. His eyes were sad, the set of his jaw tired. Why did he look like that? He had to know.

“We will cross each bridge as we come to it,” Arthur finally replied. “I cannot make you tell me all these secrets you’re alluding to right now. Mostly because I’m very busy, and I’m sure I don’t have the time. But slowly. Through...” The word “courtship” caught in his throat, and he couldn’t make himself say it.

But Merlin nodded all the same. And silence fell between them again, but a simpler silence. More peaceful.

Arthur finally shifted, uncomfortable against the floor. “So we’re on the same page?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, why don’t you tell me what you think we agreed on, hm?”

Merlin glared at him a bit. “That I’m very troublesome but you’re very bossy and much superior and managed to talk me ‘round to...agreeing to be in a...personal relationship.”

Arthur felt his chest tighten with some kind of emotion. “A romantic relationship,” he corrected, and it felt good to finally say that word, “romance.”

Merlin simply nodded beside him. “Did I get it right?”

“I would say so.” Arthur sighed, and shoved himself to his feet. “But, there’s still a whole day and a half of Yule left, so I’d best get dressed and see what my father has planned for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sire.” Merlin stood beside him and helped him remove his chainmail. He reached to remove Arthur’s tunic, but Arthur skirted away from him.

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “My lord?”

“I think I’ll be dressing myself from now on,” Arthur said, trying to sound casual about it. He snatched the clothes Merlin had picked out. “You’re soaked through yourself, Merlin. Get changed and go see if my father has rearranged our plans for the day.”

Merlin seemed to be fighting a smile, but he nodded. “Yes, sire.” He walked to the door, but stopped halfway through. “Oh, and you’re welcome for getting you out of the hunt earlier.” He shot Arthur a mischievous smirk and disappeared, leaving Arthur confused but warm in the firelight.

~~~

With the blizzard howling around them outside and turning the halls of Camelot into frozen wastelands, the king decided not to arrange for any indoor activities, and to instead insist that their guests stay warm by the fires in their rooms. That suited Arthur just fine, although he did feel a bit antsy with so much freetime, as usually even a whole afternoon going unplanned was unheard of. To make it even more boring, Merlin was needed by either the kitchens or Gaius constantly all afternoon and evening. He barely had time to bring Arthur supper, and he disappeared again almost as soon as he set down the tray.

So Arthur ate his food in silence, pouting only a little, and was very excited to hear a knock on his door.

“Come in,” he called, wiping his mouth and standing. The door opened and Morgana peered in. Arthur sighed at her.

“Yes, Morgana?”

“Hello, Arthur.” She closed the door behind herself and tiptoed over to his table. She gave him an awkward smile. “Having a nice evening?”

“I was.” He crossed his arms. “It was peaceful.”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” she fretted. Arthur rolled his eyes and retook his seat, and Morgana sat down as well. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” she told him. “I know you’re under a lot of stress because of...everything about your life, and I didn’t mean to be harsh to you.”

“I snapped at you as well,” Arthur replied. He swirled his wine goblet around. “Just forget about it, Morgana.”

She nodded. “And—if you do need anything, Arthur... Advice, or someone to talk to—“

“Thank you, Morgana,” he sighed. He stood again, and she did the same. “But right now I think I just need my time with my thoughts.”

“Of course.” She gave him another flustered cringe of a smile as he walked her to the door. “Have a good night, Arthur.”

“Goodnight.”

He closed the door with a sigh of relief. He absolutely was never going to tell Morgana, if they could manage it. She would be so annoying. He was regretting confirming anything for her.

No, this would be a secret. Their secret. Arthur smiled to himself as he returned to his dinner. As hard as it would be, and as much as he may one day wish he was able to make his...affection...public, right now, the feeling of sharing this secret with Merlin was exhilerating. And they’d hardly started.

Merlin rushed into the room a couple of hours later to ready everything for bed. “I’m sorry, sire,” he said breathlessly. “I know most of the nobility have been relaxing all evening, but they’ve had the servants running all day. Not to mention Gaius giving me extra work to do...” He trailed off into muttering to himself as he fixed Arthur’s blankets and covers for sleeping. Arthur stood nearby, already dressed for bed, and watched him.

“Don’t let it trouble you,” he interrupted his grumblings. “I’ve had a very peaceful evening in your absence.”

Merlin didn’t miss the taunt in his voice, and he tried to glare at him but gave it away with his smirk. “Oh, I’m sure you have,” he said sarcastically. He punched a pillow extra hard for effect, set it back down, and stepped back. “Anything else I can help you with, sire?” he asked, glancing about to see if he might notice anything.

Arthur took a step towards him. “Only one thing.” Merlin turned to him, and Arthur took another step to close the distance, giving him a long, sweet kiss. This. This, the first kiss of theirs that meant something, that wasn’t hiding in cowardice...this was good. Merlin’s lips slid against his, chaste, tentative, and it all made Arthur’s chest tight.

He broke the kiss and took a step back. “Right,” he said, as though just thinking of this, “have you still got that blanket I gave you last night?”

Merlin nodded, staring at him with slightly unfocused eyes. Arthur tried not to grin.

“Be sure to use it tonight. It’s frozen out there.”

Merlin nodded again, blinking himself awake. “Right. Yes. Will do.”

Arthur smirked as he watched Merlin stumble from the room. This was going to be very fun.

~~~

The Yuletide feast was magnificent. Uther had paid for the best fresh produce in the kingdom to be brought in, root vegetables and winter greens and late berries. Fresh bread rested in mountains on each table and the servants roamed the feast hall with Camelot’s best wine and mead at the ready. And at the center of it all was the roast of the large elk Arthur had felled the day before.

Music and laughter and conversation filled the hall and a joyous feeling spilled from it, leaking all through the castle and even down into the lower town. The storm from yesterday had passed, and though deep piles of snow still lined the streets, the people of the lower town were also coming together in community on this day.

Inside the feast hall, Arthur sat at his father’s table next to Morgana, hardly needing to move at all as visiting nobility moved past him in a steady stream, all giving him their best wishes for the new year and exclaiming how excited they would be to see the young prince marry soon. Arthur gave them what replied he could get in edgewise, never having a chance to recover between groups as the next person was never far behind the last.

Merlin stood behind him dutifully for most of the evening, keeping his goblet full and exchanging chatter with Gwen when they had the chance. However, after Arthur had received more wishes for a happy, swift marriage that he ever thought he’d hear in his life, he turned and asked him to make a round checking on guests. Merlin hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss, and he agreed easily and loped off.

Morgana kept her annoying expression to herself, so Arthur ignored her as Lord and Lady Nicks made their way up to their table. They stopped first to thank the king at great length for his hospitality and to invite him to the north at any time that was convenient for him. Then they continued on to Arthur.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for us while we’ve been here,” Lord Nicks said emphatically. “And my commendation, again, on your excellent kill yesterday.”

Arthur smiled at him. Troublesome or not, Lord Nicks was a good man, and extremely polite and fatherly. He was sorry that their time together had been soured by this mistletoe nonsense. “Thank you, my lord,” he replied. “You and your family are always welcome in Camelot.”

Lady Nicks smiled at Arthur and reached for his hand as her husband moved on to Morgana. “I feel I must apologize, Prince Arthur,” she said softly. “I’m afraid as of these last few days, I have not been the most enjoyable guest. Strange as it seems, cold weather puts me out of sorts.”

“There is no need to apologize,” Arthur assured her, giving her hand a light squeeze. “We’ve all been in a way, I think. You’ve certainly been no more unpleasant than I.”

She rolled her eyes and tutted at him, but smiled. “I wish you happiness in your love, my lord,” she said to him, giving him a fond smile. “Be good to him.”

She moved on before Arthur had the chance to do anything but stare and clear his throat. The next guests moved forward, and he tried to right himself. As Lord Gretlen’s daughters thanked him profusely for his hospitality, he thought he heard Morgana snickering.

The feast seemed to drag on and on. Everyone ate and drank and socialized, and then it seemed to all happen again, twice. Merlin returned to his post behind Arthur, and Arthur sighed heavily, giving him a Look. Merlin smiled at him apologetically and leaned forward to fill his goblet. Arthur’s eyes were drawn to the sliver of his skin exposed above his neckerchief.

“Getting tired, sire?” The words were taunting, but Merlin’s tone changed he meaning. Arthur shared a knowing look with him.

“Can’t leave the feast until the king retires for the night,” he mumbled to him. Merlin pursed his lips, nodding thoughtfully, and stepped back behind Arthur’s chair. Arthur distracted himself from his boredom and exhaustion by finding his knights in the crowd. He wondered how long they would be able to hide this thing from them. What with long days of riding and nights cramped together on the hard forest floor...he would have to be quite disciplined to keep his secret.

Arthur was startled by the sound of his father’s snoring, and looked over to see that Uther was dozing in his chair out of nowhere. Morgana laughed beside him, leaning around him to see for herself.

“He really fell asleep during a feast,” she chuckled. Arthur shot her a stern look and tapped his father on the arm. Uther jolted awake, looking surprised.

“Oh dear,” he muttered, shifting in his seat. “I don’t know what’s come over me.” He let out a great yawn.

“You should go to bed, father,” Arthur told him. “The knights and the servants know what to do.”

Uther nodded a bit. “Yes. I suppose you’re right, Arthur.” Uther pushed himself up, shaking his head, and Arthur stood beside him. The room slowly faded into silence as everyone turned their attention to the king.

Uther’s parting speech was short—thank you all for joining Camelot in her celebration of Yule, safe travels home, I must retire for the night, etc etc. Uther exited the feast hall with Gaius and a servant in tow, and Arthur turned to Merlin with an eyebrow raised. Merlin gave him a big smug grin in return, and Arthur shook his head. What crazy luck.

Arthur stayed for another fifteen minutes before also excusing himself from the feast. Morgana wouldn’t let him go easily.

“Oh little Crown Prince, is it past your bedtime?” she asked him sweetly, smirking to hell and back. Arthur clapped a hand on her shoulder as he passed her.

“Have a good night, Morgana.”

“And where exactly do you think you’re going?” She stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

Arthur paused, wracking his brain, and Merlin cleared his throat. He pulled out a wooden box and handed it to Arthur, and realization washed over him. Of course. Thank god for Merlin.

“I would never forget,” Arthur blatantly lied, and turned to hand the box to Morgana. She smiled at it and glanced at him.

“Can I open it?”

“No, I got you a box that you’re never allowed to open.”

She rolled her eyes at him and opened the lid. Her expression lit up when she saw the contents.

“Oh Arthur—thank you.” She leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek. He just gave her a tight smile in return.

“Happy Yule, then, Morgana.”

He escaped quickly after that, with Merlin on his heels. They were quiet as they walked, and Arthur could feel his pulse in his throat. He felt nervous—or like his body was buzzing with anticipation. He glanced over at Merlin in the torchlight of the hall, and he was clearly feeling something similar. He kept fidgeting with his jacket and his neckerchief.

They entered Arthur’s chambers and the silence was getting to be unbearable. Arthur finally spoke.

“It felt like that feast would never end.” He pulled his cloak off and slung it over a chair. “I swear everyone had had thirds before we finally got out of there. Good luck on my father finally getting tired. I thought we’d be there until morning. And Lord Gretlen’s daughters were nearly unbearable tonight. I think they lost all semblance of subtlety two days ago, at this point they’re almost desperate. It’s sad that their father pushes them that way...”

He eventually ran out of things to say and finally turned to where Merlin was crouched adding logs to the fire. Merlin looked up at him, his cheeks flushed from the hot flames. Arthur stepped towards him and held out his hand. Merlin hesitated a moment before taking it and allowing Arthur to pull him to his feet.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Arthur asked him. Merlin hummed.

“That last night feels like it was some kind of dream,” he said softly. “And I’m not sure at all that it was real.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned around so Merlin could work at the buckles on his hauberk. “I don’t think your brain could make that up, Merlin.”

“You’d be surprised. Once I dreamed that Gaius—“

“Ahh, ah, shut up.” Arthur cringed. “I absolutely don’t want to hear the end of that sentence.”

“Whatever you say, my lord.” Arthur smiled at Merlin’s tone.

Merlin removed his plate armor and his chainmail and Arthur turned to face him. Merlin was hesitant again, refusing to make eye contact.

“I don’t know what you think is about to happen,” Arthur said nonchalantly, waltzing over to his wardrobe and digging around for sleeping clothes. “You look like a simpering virgin. Honestly, what do you think I’m going to do to you?”

“I do not look like a simpering virgin,” Merlin snapped. “And anyway I’m not anticipating anything. So if that’s all, sire, then—“

“No.” Arthur closed his wardrobe. He threw his sleeping things on the bed and walked towards Merlin slowly. Merlin’s breath caught, his gaze fixed on Arthur. “That’s not all.”

Merlin straightened up, hands clasped behind his back. “What else can I do for you, sire? I am at your service.”

Arthur felt a light thrill at those words, but tried to ignore it. He stopped when he was inches from Merlin.

“Close your eyes.”

Merlin winced a little, but did as he was told. Arthur took Merlin’s jaw in his hand, and closed the distance between them. As he kissed Merlin, he slowly placed his other hand on the small of his back, pressing him forward. Merlin made one of those lovely surprised sounds, and his hands landed tentatively on Arthur’s arms. Arthur broke off the kiss and Merlin sighed, eyes still closed, and rested his forehead against Arthur’s.

“Also, I don’t know where you think you’re going without readying the bed for sleeping.”

Merlin smirked, and when he opened his eyes, the firelight flashed golden in them for a moment. Arthur was struck speechless by the sight.

“I don’t know what you mean, sire,” Merlin said lowly, and stepped away. He nodded at the bed, and Arthur turned to find that the pillows had been adjusted, the covers pulled back, exactly how he liked it.

He turned back to Merlin, confused, but the other man just smiled at him. “So. Unless there’s anything else, Arthur?”

Arthur smiled a bit at the use of his name. “I suppose not.” He wandered over to pick up his sleeping clothes. “Do you still have that blanket I gave you the other night?”

“Yes. Gaius, as well.”

“Make sure you use it.” Arthur glanced up. “On account of the cold, of course.”

Merlin tried to hide a smile. “Of course, my lord.”

“And first thing tomorrow,” Arthur turned to look Merlin sternly in the eye, “rip down all the mistletoe you can find.”

Merlin laughed and made his exit then, and Arthur dressed himself for bed, feeling like perhaps, the new year might hold something good.


End file.
